


Inconvenient yet fulfilled.

by Yokelish



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yokelish/pseuds/Yokelish
Summary: An afterthought of "Inconvenient romance". Ignis thinks, laments, and talks.
Relationships: Ignis Scientia/Reader
Comments: 15
Kudos: 50





	Inconvenient yet fulfilled.

**Author's Note:**

> You know what shakes me? having comments on the story that I finished hella long ago. So here you go, a little something to satisfy your Ignis craving. Oh, and it's written completely from his perspective. Something I avoided intentionally in the original story.

Ignis knew he was awake now. He could feel the weight on the bed shifting and moving around. You were awake too. But he didn’t open his eyes just yet. It felt oddly peaceful and comforting in knowing that he didn’t have to get up just yet. He felt the light touch of warm fingers against his forehead. He didn’t allow himself to react and let you know he was awake. However, you probably knew anyway. But he relished the feeling of a small loving gesture you granted him first thing in the morning. Perhaps he should simply admit that he was a tad tired. He returned home after you yesterday having to stay in the office for another two hours. You, stubborn as you were, almost made yourself stay with him. He wouldn’t allow. Yesterday he came home late. _Home._ It was his place first, but now you were leaving here too. With him. It was his place. He referred to it as home before, but the word felt different now. Every time he said he was going home, he said so with pride. The word tasted sweet and felt oddly warm. When he thought of home, he couldn’t help but smile. This was home now where both of you came to after work. Perhaps you didn’t always return together yet the wasn’t a night you had to spend alone. He made sure of it. Ignis would stay in the office late but never so late as to make you go to bed without him. Perhaps this what home was. Your weight left the bed. You would go to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your teeth. There would be your toothbrush that never left this room since the moment it was placed here. Your soap, shampoo, and towels.

When the door closed behind you, Ignis opened his eyes and breathed in deeply. There was no need for him to get up yet. The world felt still and quiet. Nothing could shake this feeling of utmost content as the time ceased to exist within the confinement of home. He couldn’t count many mornings that felt as reposeful. But the numbers were growing. The water was running in the bathroom. Ignis smiled unwittingly. The thought of having someone else wake up beside him was the strangest thing that made him happy. You were never quiet but you tried. You did your best to walk on tiptoes and close the doors gently. It was endearing when you tried but even more so because you failed. Knowing he was a light sleeper, suspecting he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway, you still tried to be quiet as a mouse. Perhaps he should tell you honestly that you didn’t bother him in the least. And that waking up to your rummaging was better than waking up to an alarm sound. After all, it meant you were here, with him, home.

Fussing around the kitchen was mostly Iggy’s hobby. He was the one whose cooking was superior. It wasn’t boasting, you both agreed he was a better cook. But it didn’t’ mean you didn’t cook at all. You did so yesterday while he was slaving away in the office. He doubted his words of gratitude were enough to convey the depth and gravity of his feelings. Ignis was also the one who could manage to be quiet in the kitchen too. But here you were moving things around with _clanks_ and _clicks_ and _clunks._ He smiled, listening to the dulled sounds coming from the kitchen. He better get up now and start his morning routine too.

“What an edgelord,” you mumbled quietly, putting grind beans into the coffee filter. The smell of Ebony was overwhelming but also terribly familiar. He wrapped his arms around your waistline. While you were not surprised, you always questioned his ability to be so stealthy. It wasn’t a question of how but why, you said. You complained about it many times before. He never stopped. Sometimes it was a force of habit, sometimes he wished to surprise you, sometimes it felt right to be as quiet and subtle as he was. 

“Came to supervise?” you asked tilting your head to the side. Ignis placed his head on top of your shoulder.

“But of course,” he answered.

“Ignis, it’s coffee. I know you can do many more things than I can, but making coffee I can manage.”

“True. But the things you can do I would never be able to accomplish.”

“I feel like you were trying to pay me a compliment as an afterthought to your own flexing.”

“Not even close,” he chuckled, “you are just terribly dense.” That was the truth. You were terribly dense at times. He knew of this quality but handing you those little puzzles and subtle hints was always giving him pure unadulterated joy as you tried to grasp all the meanings he placed in his words. You were as eager to catch them as a cat was eager to catch a bird.

There were many things Ignis could do that you couldn’t. It wasn’t boasting — a simple fact. You had very different lives before coming together. Ignis shaped and sharpened himself to be the best tool to serve the Crown. And yet he would always fail in making himself go home on time. Until you came along. He remembered well that thrashing you gave him the very first time you came to retrieve him from his office.

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled quietly but with evident frustration. The button on the coffee machine gave in under the pressure of your finger. And while Ignis didn’t make any corrections to your Ebony recipe, he didn’t let go of you either. He placed his chin on top of your head and stepped closer to you, embracing you from behind, tightening his grip on your form.

It felt right and good and true. Peaceful. Quiet. Until Ignis started humming into your ear. You stifled a giggle.

“Are you humming?” you asked knowing the answer better than Ignis himself. Certain things about himself he failed to notice. It was both amusing and endearing to you, he could tell. And he would let you have those little things you found precious for some reason.

“I am,” he answered simply and truthfully. “I was,” Ignis corrected. “Do you remember a conversation we had in my office a good while back?”

“You really need to be more specific,” you said accusingly. There were too many conversations that took place in his office. And perhaps you remembered about half of them. Ignis did not mind your occasional density. Sometimes he blamed himself for being too subtle about his affections and intentions. Yet if he could give you a suitable clue, you were greedily catching on.

“The one you confessed about craving human affection,” he reminded.

“How could I forget,” you said, mortified.

Ignis chuckled, amused by your reaction. “Do you remember what you said that time?”

“Ig, dear, I talk shit most of the time.”

“You asked if I ever wished to receive affection from someone. Like someone hugging you when you cook.” He paused to let the words sink in. He heard a chuckle coming from you. You must have remembered now. It was an embarrassing memory for you, he held no doubt because you were vulnerable and awkward with your words. As you always are. But you remembered and allowed yourself to recall this memory.

“You said you’d be a happy man giving affection to someone,” came your gentle words, coloured in pleasant melancholy. Ignis hummed in approval, too, savouring the moment of pleasant lamentation. He should have been upfront that time when he took away your hands from your face, stopping you from hiding. He failed. “I swear, Ig, the world will not fall apart if you just say you are happy as all normal people do.”

He placed a kiss on top of your head before letting go of you. He sat at the kitchen island, patiently waiting for his cup of coffee while taking out his phone. He needed to catch up on the news if there was something worthy of reading.

“You aren’t saying anything,” you said, suspicions of the silence he let to settle.

“The older I get, darling, the more I understand how fleeting happiness is. Too fleeting to catch it in a word,” Ignis said, looking at his phone. Attention-demanding titles he knew how to filter.

“If you going to say ‘elated’ I am so adding sugar to your Ebony,” you warned, stirring your coffee with a spoon. Perhaps that’s the only sound he could leave without. The sound of the spoon hitting ceramics as you were stirring your drink. His fingers tapped on the surface of the kitchen counter.

“Elated?” Ignis asked, placing his phone down. He would never admit it, would never speak it out loud for you to hear, but he enjoyed when you could turn the tables on him. “No, it’s not the word I would use. That would be content.”

“Just content?” you questioned, slightly offended, picking up his cup of coffee. As if the word wasn’t enough to gratify you. It wasn’t the lack of words or eloquence that stumbled him, but the lack of a proper word to describe his feelings. If he could neatly package his feelings into one eloquent and elegant word, he would have done so long ago. But the limitations of verbal language were confounding. And he could only hope you understood.

“Fulfilled,” he added thoughtfully. You placed his mug on the table before him. The smell pleasantly invading his senses. You flashed him a fleeting but satisfying smile and started to drink your coffee. He had to return to going through the news feed.

If only he could forget about your eyes on him. He wasn’t disturbed by you watching him but curious as to why you were so insistent on it.

“I can feel your eyes on me,” Ignis said as he met your eyes. There was a smile on your lips, a smile you hid behind the coffee cup. It was a blissful smile; you should hide it from him. “What got you smiling so, dear?” he asked as he leaned on the counter closer to you. You mimicked his actions.

“You can’t tell anyone,” you said as the smile turned mischievous, “but it’s about one Crownsguard.”

“A man in your life?” Ignis questioned, playing along with the mischief. “About time, I must say.”

“I know, right?”

“So, what’s about him that got you smiling so?” Ignis tilted his head to a side, unable to fight the amused smile from appearing on his face. “Did he sway you with his sweet words?”

“No,” you dragged out the word, “I wish he had sweeter words, honestly. But he is articulate.”

“He must be.”

“And truthful.”

“A must-have quality.”

“And eloquent.”

“He must be charming then.”

“I wouldn’t say so.”

“Oh?”

“He is very expressive though.”

“I dare say your taste has improved,” Ignis commented, pointing at your cup of coffee. He would never mistake the smell coming from the hot liquid in your cup. It was Ebony.

“Wouldn’t manage without you,” you said, giggling. Ignis smiled widely before dropping his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. He rubbed his face, trying to come down from the fit of laughter overwhelming him. He couldn’t name what had him laughing so. Perhaps it was the banter you just had or the fact you started drinking his coffee. It could have been the combination of the two, or simply the fact he felt so light and content he could laugh at silliest things.

“How about we move on the sofa and read the news together?” you asked with a wide smile on your face. Ignis stood up from the chair, leaning over the counter, feeling rather desperate to kiss the smile on your lips. The strangest thoughts could make him feel this fleeting happiness. As fleeting as it was, it was most fulfilling. You would taste like his coffee if he kissed you now. And you did. He placed another chaste kiss on your lips, kissing the blissful smile even brighter.

“If you get the coasters,” Ignis agreed with your idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Ignis has pockets on his pajama pants. When he wakes up, he takes his phone from the nightstand and puts it in the pocket. Fight me?  
> Thank you for being here.  
> I can't write romance.


End file.
